


I see London, I see France

by incandescentlight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, French Harry, Harry Potter AU, Louis is 24 and Harry is 18, M/M, also spoiler alert: they have sex, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incandescentlight/pseuds/incandescentlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter AU.  Louis is working at the coffee shop when the most gorgeous boy walks in. Harry is an eighth year Beauxbatons student and Louis is determined not to fall in love because Harry returns to France in four months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I see London, I see France

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovestyles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovestyles/gifts).



> @lovestyles: I hope that you enjoy the fic and aren't disappointed with the liberties I've taken with your prompt! I saw that one of your prompts involved the Battle of Hogwarts, which I was too big of a wuss to take, but I figured you wouldn't be outraged at a HP AU. (:
> 
> PROMPT: A classic coffee shop AU. Except Harry is French (or Spanish or some other European nationality).

Louis isn’t sure what he had expected his life to look like at twenty-four, but he’s pretty sure that this isn’t it. It’s not that he doesn’t like the coffee shop, because he does. The work is straightforward, the Hogsmeade crowd is generally well-behaved, and his boss is a good friend. He just didn’t envision having to hand-clean the machines every few hours because apparently “they don’t react well to magic, Merlin’s tits Louis, just do it please.” 

Perrie takes advantage of the late afternoon lull in customers to round on him with an impish grin. “So,” she says, “how’d your hot date go last night.”

Louis loves Perrie. She’s fun and quirky and easygoing. In fact, if he were at all inclined towards the fairer sex, he probably would have asked her out back when they were both still in Hogwarts. As it stands, she makes an excellent boss and friend, not least because it means that Louis gets away with a lot of shit that he would probably get sacked for otherwise. It also means that Louis doesn’t mind when Perrie asks invasive about his personal life.

Louis shrugs. “It was alright. We went to dinner and then an art exhibition where a few of his pieces were shown, which was wicked. But like, I know fuck all about art, so I dunno, it was a bit boring after the first half hour.” He finishes wiping down the espresso machine and moves on to refill the syrups. “And then we just went back to my place.”

Perrie waggles her eyebrows in what she probably thinks is a lascivious manner. Louis doesn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. 

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he says primly. In truth, Louis has no compunction about sharing sordid sex stories, and he and Zayn had actually only snogged for a bit before Zayn had gotten distracted by Louis’ DVD collection.

“Oh come off it, you slag,” Perrie whines. “Don’t be so stingy. I haven’t had a date in months- just let me live vicariously through you for a bit.”

“We didn’t end up shagging,” Louis relents. “We just watched a muggle film and had an enlightened discussion over the merits of DC versus Marvel. His cousins are muggles.”

Perrie sighs dramatically. “Hot boys are wasted on you, Tomlinson.”

Louis shrugs again. “He’s fit but we weren’t that compatible. Sexually, at least. We’ll probably be mates though, he’s cool.” He doesn’t tell her that he already has plans to introduce Zayn to one of his best friends. Liam doesn’t know much about art either, but Louis has a strong feeling in his gut that they’d be perfect for each other.

The door chimes before Perrie gets another word in, or maybe Louis just doesn’t hear her because at that moment, the most gorgeous boy walks into the shop. Louis recognizes distantly that he’s probably staring too intently at the boy’s curls and lips and legs, but it proves to be embarrassingly difficult to look away because everything about this boy is so lovely.

“Hi,” he manages to get out because professionalism is important. Probably.

The boy’s plump pink lips stretch into a smile and -- _dimple_! Louis thinks frantically. _Merlin’s pants, the boy has a fucking dimple._ And he's walking directly towards them. Louis snaps out of his trance when the boy seems to trip over a particularly tricky patch of air. 

Bambi is blushing when he looks up at Louis again, biting his lip. “Oops,” he whispers. _Adorable,_ Louis thinks before he can stop himself.

Perrie clears her throat delicately from beside him. “Hello, what can I get for you today?”

Bambi glances between the two of them and the menu board. “Could I ‘ave a moment to think, please?” His voice is deep, with a lilting French accent. “I am not used with reading in English.”

“Sure mate,” Louis jumps in. “Let me know if you need suggestions or whatnot.” Smooth is his middle name. It probably even makes up for all the gawking he did earlier. Louis offers French Bambi his most charming smile number three and pretends to busy himself with wiping the counters. It’s probably not very effective since a couple spells take care of it and then Louis is left just staring at Bambi - discreetly he hopes - from under his lashes.

Bambi is frowning up at the menu board, looking as though he were writing a particularly difficult Arithmancy exam he hadn’t studied for. 

“I usually go for the tea,” Louis offers. “I mean, I know it’s a coffee shop but it’s an English classic, yeah? And not to brag, but I make the best tea out of everyone I know, so you’ll be in good hands.” 

Bambi dimples again. “Yes, that sounds nice--” his eyes dip down to Louis’ chest, “-- Louis.”

After he leaves, Perrie spends the rest of Louis’ shift teasing him about Bambi. Which, fair enough given how stupid he must have looked. But next time Perrie has a crush, you’d best bet that Louis will be there to rub it in her face.

 

x

 

Bambi’s name turns out to be Harry. Harry makes a joke about how Louis the Englishman has a French name and Harry the Frenchman has an English name, and _isn’t that so funny? It’s funny, right, Louis?_ Then he grins as if he expects Louis to burst out laughing once he understands the joke. 

Louis doesn’t burst out laughing but he does chuckle fondly. Maybe a bit too fondly, because Perrie who is within hearing range adds that tidbit to Louis’ growing list of embarrassing reactions to Harry. 

In the next few weeks, Harry comes in surprisingly often for someone who is completing his internship. Louis can’t help but hope that at least part of the reason is to see Louis himself. After that first time, Harry always sits at the counter so that he and Louis can talk when there’s a lull in customers. 

Louis learns that Harry is a student at Beauxbatons and that he wants to be a Herbologist. The Beauxbatons curriculum went through an overhaul a few years ago and now requires that students stay for an extra year, half of which would be spent shadowing and working with a professional in their field of choice. Harry says that he had jumped at the chance to learn from Professor Longbottom, who was one of Europe’s leading Herbologists, while most of his peers had elected to stay in France.

Louis is quietly impressed with the bravery and persistence that Harry shows in pursuing his passion. It makes Louis feel a bit inadequate, a bit ashamed, but mostly really proud of the boy he’s only known since late August. He wonders where his own passion has gone.

He also learns that Harry has a sister who is coming to visit him for New Years, before they go back to France together. That’s in less than four months, Louis’ brain supplies helpfully. Louis squashes that thought before it can fully take root. It’s not like Harry’s his boyfriend or even a particularly close friend. It will make little difference to Louis’ life when Harry returns to France, he tells himself firmly. Except that they’ll converse through owls and firecalls instead of face-to-beautiful-face. If their friendship proves to be more than a product of convenience, that is.

Louis hopes that it does. 

“Why don’t you just ask him out already,” Perrie asks on more than one occasion, exasperated. “It’s really getting quite nauseating to watch.”

“He’s so young,” Louis always replies.

“So? He’s eighteen, isn’t he? Not robbing any cradles with that one, grandpa.”

Louis glares and Perrie rolls her eyes dramatically. Louis ignores her for the most part. 

As much as the age gap had troubled him (not much, if at all), his main concern is the fact that Harry is returning to France when his semester ends. He knows that Harry has no roots, no reason to stay in the UK and Louis has no business gallivanting off to a country whose language he doesn’t speak. As it is, it’s only been a month and he’s already in deeper than he’d ever planned to be.

 

x

 

Pansy Parkinson is the owner of wizarding London’s hottest beauty potion shop. After the war, she had fled to France to escape the rampant anti-Death Eater sentiments. She had come back to London several years later with a line of wildly successful beauty potions. Although she had never regained her previous social esteem, she does command a certain grudging respect from her wide and unnervingly loyal customer base. 

Pansy comes back from an extended holiday in Paris at the end of September. Which means that Louis is back to brewing potions in the backroom of her store twice a week. 

When Pansy first approached Louis about the job, Louis had been more than a little surprised. Although he had never questioned his place in Slytherin, Louis thought that Pansy would have balked at the idea of employing a muggleborn. 

“Sweetie,” Pansy had said in her careless and slightly condescending way, “I don’t care if you fuck centaurs in your spare time so long as you’re good at your job. I need the best for my business and Professor Slughorn has assured me that you and Jade Thirwall were some of his best students in your years.”

Louis’ original hesitance prove to be unnecessary because, as it turns out, he and Pansy get along swimmingly. She doesn’t turn her nose up at him or treat him poorly or treat him any differently at all to her other employees, as far as Louis can tell. 

So Louis comes in Tuesdays and Thursdays to brew potions for Pansy. Sometimes his shifts coincide with Jade’s, whose schedule is much more erratic than his own. And he works.

Louis has always loved brewing potions. There’s something so soothing in the repetitive motions of chopping and stirring and sifting. He also loves to experiment with the ingredients, to use his knowledge and intuition to improve and simplify his work. In fact, he had blown up quite a few cauldrons back in his Hogwarts days in the name of experimentation. It’s a wonder that Slughorn had recommended him to Pansy at all.

“How are my favourite minions faring today,” Pansy asks as she sweeps in for a mid-morning checkup. 

“Better now that your royal wickedness has graced us with your presence,” Louis says with mock reverence.

“Obviously.” Pansy sniffs delicately. “But how are the potions coming along?”

“We’ve finished two batches of the deep conditioning hair potion, one batch of the anti-aging skin ointment, and we’re halfway through the cuticle potion,” Jade rattles off. 

“Excellent. Now,” Pansy leans in with a gleeful smirk, “tell me about this boy of yours I’ve been hearing about, Tomlinson.”

The withering glare Louis shoots Jade is wasted when he sees that she is concentrating with suspicious dedication on her potion.

 

x

 

Meanwhile, it’s become a tradition of sorts for Louis to surprise Harry with a new beverage and pastry from the menu whenever he drops by the coffee shop. Whenever Louis comes up with something Harry really likes, he smiles so wide that his dimples appear and his eyes sparkle like in those bloody Disney princess movies Louis’ sisters had made him watch. Which, in the grand scheme of things, Louis can admit is probably not terribly important, but it always feels like such a _gift_ to have Harry direct that smile at him. 

It’s the first day of October and Louis is nervous. After almost a week of experimentation, he had presented Perrie with his pumpkin latte creation and wheedled her into introducing it to their October menu.

Perrie had stared at him judgmentally, eyebrows shooting halfway up her forehead, as though she knew that he had only done it to impress Harry. Which isn’t incorrect, but Louis would have appreciated a little less judgment a bit more support, thanks ever so.

“He asked about you the other day,” Perrie says nonchalantly.

Louis pretends to not understand what she is trying to say. The thing is, Louis’ inconvenient little crush has since developed sentience, sprouted wings and flown off, with no reaction to his attempts to wrangle it into submission. Louis is no longer sure that Staying Friends is the same measure of self-preservation that it had started out as. He already feels a dull thud in his chest just thinking about Harry leaving in January.

Now with the drink sitting in front of Harry, Louis can’t remember why he thought it would be a good idea. Or why he’s so nervous. It feels strangely like he’s laying his heart on the line.

Harry fixes the drink in front of him with a mock suspicious look. “It is pumpkin? In a coffee?”

“Um, yes?” Louis says eloquently.

“Very well, Louis Tomlinson,” he sighs theatrically, “I hope you do not disappoint me.” Harry ruins the severe effect he was going for by flashing Louis a grin.

He takes a contemplative sip and his eyes immediately light up. “It is good.”

“Thanks.” For a man who has never been known to be modest, Louis feels strangely shy from the compliment. “I made, I mean, it’s my creation.” 

“Really,” Harry says as he takes another sip, “you are a man very full of surprises and talent.”

Whatever Louis has to say to that is forgotten because Harry chooses this moment to emerge from his drink with a ridiculous foam moustache. 

“Louis look - moustache!” Harry says gleefully. “Like the Father Christmas, no?”

Louis feels his mouth dry out. The thing is, the foam itself is quite absurd-looking. But all Louis can think about is how pretty Harry would look with Louis’ cock pumping into those pouty lips, painting them with his come. About how innocent Harry looks, and how much Louis wants to protect him from the world.

 _Fuck it,_ Louis thinks hysterically, he’s already half in love as it is.

“Go to dinner with me,” he blurts.

Harry freezes. “You mean--”

“On a date,” Louis confirms, more collected this time. “I really like you, Harry. Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

Harry’s cheeks flush with pleasure, lips stretching into a wide grin. “Yes, I would love that.”

“Good,” Louis breathes out, “good.” Harry’s smile proves to be infectious and Louis spends a long moment just grinning inanely back at Harry from across the counter.

“You know,” Harry says coyly. He leans forward to whisper conspiratorially, “I started to wonder if you were not interested in me. Or men.”

“Definitely interested. In fact, can I just--” Louis cups Harry’s face in both hands and - slowly to give Harry the chance to pull away - leans in to kiss the foam away from Harry’s upper lip.

Harry whimpers, hands shooting up to hold Louis’ in place. As though Louis had anywhere else he would rather be. Harry’s lips are just as soft and pliant as Louis had imagined but all the sweeter because it’s not a fantasy this time.

Louis smiles against Harry’s lips, and pulls away after a final peck. Harry looks absolutely drugged. For all that the kiss had been a chaste one, Harry’s cheeks are flushed a brilliant pink and his eyes are glazed, pupils dilated. 

“Good,” Louis says again. He can practically hear the fondness leak out of his words. But this time, he does nothing to try and hide it. Instead, he strokes the soft skin of Harry’s jaw with a thumb and kisses him again.

At least until Perrie clears her throat pointedly for the third time. “Get the fuck back to work, Tomlinson," she says, cracking a dish towel at his rear.

Louis can’t stop smiling for the rest of his shift.

 

x

 

That night they take a portkey to Manchester to dine at one of Louis’ favourite restaurants. It’s a classy Italian place, and well, Louis doesn’t actually get the chance to eat at Rosso a lot, what with its romantic atmosphere. But he had wanted to share it with Harry. 

“This is very nice,” Harry says appreciatively. “How did you get a reservation so late?”

“My mate Niall is a big-shot chef here so he worked some magic for us,” Louis explains. He reaches over the table to give Harry’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight.”

“My pleasure.” Harry grins. “I hoped to have a date with you as soon as I saw you. I remember I even tripped because I was busy looking at you.”

That surprises a laugh out of Louis. “No kidding,” Louis says delightedly. “And here I thought you were just naturally graceful.”

“Well.” Harry takes a calculated sip of wine. “I promise I am not so clumsy horizontally.” He cocks a pointed eyebrow, just in case Louis hadn’t understood the innuendo.

 _Fuck,_ Louis curses inwardly. He shifts in his seat to adjust the sudden tightness in his trousers. Judging by the way Harry is smirking into his wine glass, he had been less than subtle than he hoped. Well, Louis Tomlinson has never claimed to be subtle anyway.

The two of them are practically inseparable after that. Whenever Harry’s not at the castle and Louis’ not working at Pansy’s, they’re together. Louis had even cut back on his hours at the coffee shop, with Perrie’s enthusiastic blessing, to spend more time with Harry before he leaves.

Louis introduces Harry to all of his friends and dutifully tags along to all the touristy places on Harry's checklist. Mostly, they just enjoy each other’s company and kisses, but they do go on several more spectacular dates when their schedules allow. One memorable date in particular, Louis takes Harry to an open field to play a bit of one-on-one quidditch. Harry loses spectacularly even though Liam loans him his Nimbus Galaxy while Louis makes do with his antiquated Comet 330. When he’s down 20 to 90, Louis takes pity on him and pretends to need a break.

Once they’re back on the ground, they dig into the picnic basket Louis had packed - with only a tiny bit of help from Perrie! - for their date. He’d even brought a large blanket for them to sit on. They still have to put up warming charms, but at least it’s soft and protects them from grass stains. Or something.

“You were particularly awful,” Louis tells him once they’ve finished their sandwiches.

Harry squawks indignantly. Things quickly devolve into a food fight after Harry pelts Louis with grapes to avenge his honour. 

Louis has never been so happy or so satisfied with a relationship before, even though he and Harry haven’t gone further than some over-the-clothes groping. They had just clicked from the get-go, with no real rhyme or reason.

A week later, Harry asks if he’d maybe like to go back his place after a date. Louis can’t agree fast or emphatically enough. He presses himself against Harry’s back as he tries to get the door open. He knows that he’s probably not helping things along, with the way he’s mouthing at the sliver of exposed skin at the back of Harry’s neck. They get the bloody door open in the end though, so Louis is inclined to forgive himself.

“Come on,” Harry whispers hotly against his ear. “Need to feel you inside.”

“Fuck,” Louis pants as he presses open-mouthed kisses along the length of Harry’s throat, “Yes, yes, yes.” 

Harry feels so good and his taste is addictive. Louis can’t seem to pull himself away long enough to get them to the bedroom. They do make it to the bed somehow, despite their pausing to snog against every wall. 

By the time they’re both finally naked, Louis is almost delirious with desire. Through the haze of lust, Louis recognizes a fierce affection for Harry and forces himself to slow down. The last thing he wants is to hurt Harry or make him uncomfortable in any way. So Louis takes his time worshipping every inch of Harry’s body with his hands and mouth. He prepares him with his tongue and then one, two, three fingers until Harry’s fucking himself on Louis’ fingers and swearing profusely in French.

“How do you say ‘boyfriend’ in French?” Louis asks after. He’s going for nonchalant, but with the way that his whole body freezes up, he’s sure that Harry sees right through it.

“Petit ami,” Harry says, his grin mischievous but his eyes soft. “It means ‘little friend’. Which is the perfect word for you, my littler friend.”

Louis growls playfully as he pounces on Harry, who is now openly laughing. His heart swells a million sizes at the implication of Harry’s words. Boyfriends. Confirmation that Harry wants more than a holiday fling.

“I’ll show you little friend,” he says, voice deep and throaty. Harry’s breath hitches at his tone and then he’s not giggling at all, but moaning brokenly into the pillow as Louis fucks into him.

“Merde,” Harry gasps out. “Not little friend after all.” Louis laughs.

“Good of you to realise.” He leans down to kiss Harry’s shoulder tenderly. He’s not going to think about the little time they have left, Louis tells himself fiercely, and he’s not going to obsess over what will happen to them after Harry returns to France. 

 

x 

 

Louis can’t stop obsessing over Harry’s imminent departure. All through the month of December, Louis is reminded of the fact that Harry leaves in a couple weeks and they don’t even have a plan. He is constantly torn between schoolboy levels of glee that Harry has agreed to be his boyfriend and despair.

Harry assures him that he wants to continue their relationship into the new year.

“I want you, Louis. I want to be with you. It will be fine, you will see,” Harry had declared.

Louis isn’t so confident. He doesn’t doubt their feelings for one another, but he is more than a little nervous about long distance relationships. Especially one as new as theirs. If only Harry didn’t have to go back to Beauxbatons for his final semester. If only Louis could get a job in France. But he doesn’t kid himself in thinking that the few skills he possesses will entice any French employers when he speaks no French.

Even Pansy notices his glum mood. 

“What’s wrong, Tomlinson?”

“I’m sure you don’t need your minions whinging at you.” His potion making hasn’t slowed or suffered in quality, thankfully, or else Louis is sure that Pansy tone wouldn’t be nearly so friendly.

Pansy shrugs. “It’s almost Christmas, maybe I’m feeling charitable. Also you’ve been looking like a kicked Crup and it’s hurting employee morale.”

So Louis gives her the short version of events.

“You would go to France for your boy?” Pansy asks. She sounds incredulous and maybe a little bit awed. Louis doesn’t blame her. “Sounds like you’re completely smitten.”

Louis barks out a laugh. “Don’t I know it. It doesn’t matter though. It’s not like I can get a job there, what with my pre-natal level of French. And I’m not rich enough to be able to take an extended vacation without pay.”

Pansy squints at him thoughtfully. Louis fidgets under her scrutiny. “What? Are you offering to finance my stay in France in the name of true love?”

“You wish,” Pansy scoffs. “Get back to work, you hooligans.”

 

x 

 

Harry and Louis wait for Christmas morning to open all their holiday presents. They sit in front of the fireplace of the quaint Hogsmeade cottage where Harry is living for the semester, sipping hot cocoa. It feels so domestic that Louis wants to cry. 

They had spent the entirety of the previous day together, celebrating Louis’ birthday. Harry had given him an enthusiastic rimjob to apologize for combining his birthday and Christmas presents. Then, he’d ridden Louis until it had culminated in two very satisfying orgasms. Needless to say, Louis had not been disappointed in the least.

Harry cancels the glamour over a package by the window and floats it over. It’s long and slim, with a thicker end the shape of a muggle American football.

“Harry--” Louis is flabbergasted. “Is that what I think it is?”

Harry grins impishly. “Maybe. I wrapped it myself. It even has a little bow on it.” He points at red ribbon wrapped around the part where the package flares wide. “Go on, I want you to have it.”

Louis tears through the wrapping paper as carefully as he can. When he’s done, he’s left staring dumbly at the beautiful Firebolt in his hands. 

“Harry, I--” Louis swallows thickly. Harry nudges him with a shoulder. 

“Do you like it?” Harry asks. “I knew what I wanted to give you since you took me on that quidditch date. It’s not the Supreme edition, but Gemma told me that it is still one of the best.”

Louis kisses him softly to convey all the thanks, appreciation, and love that he doesn't know how to even begin putting into words. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

He summons his own present for Harry from where he’d hidden it yesterday. It’s nowhere as expensive as Harry’s, but he hopes that his boyfriend will like it. He had spent the better part of a month compiling a gift basket of things that he thought Harry would like: a variety of seeds both wizarding and muggle, a light floral fragrance with a woody undertone that had immediately reminded Louis of Harry, an assortment of teas, and Louis’ favourite childhood book The Lonely Hippogriff. 

Louis rubs the back of his neck self-consciously after he explains why he had included each item. “I’m sorry I couldn’t afford anything more expensive, maybe next year--” He’s cut off abruptly when Harry flings his arms around him and smothers his face in kisses.

“Hush, I love it,” he says, thumbing the scruff on Louis’ jaw absently. He swallows thickly, then looks at Louis with an serious expression. “I love you.”

Louis can barely believe his luck that the loveliest boy he has ever known and loved could love him - does love him back. 

“I love you too,” he whispers. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” They kiss feverishly until Louis’ heart feels fit to burst. Then they kiss some more until the kisses taper off sweetly.

And then they go back to opening presents.

Louis is surprised to find a present from Pansy buried in the pile from Niall, Liam, and Perrie. He pats himself on the back for having the foresight to have sent her one as well. 

The card shows a partially undressed Oliver Wood, flitting between the quidditch hoops of the Pudd United pitch. “I’m a keeper,” it proclaims on the front. Well, nobody could accuse Pansy Parkinson of having poor taste in men. 

Inside, Pansy had written: _I owed Draco several favours or else I would have never voluntarily given up my best potions maker. Happy Christmas._

Louis muses over her cryptic words as he opens the package to find three expensive-looking bottles. He barks out a laugh when he sees that his boss had gotten him a set of magical lubes. 

There is a letter lying at the bottom of the box. The parchment feels heavy to Louis when he examines it and the crest on the seal is unfamiliar. 

“What’s that?” Harry asks. “It looks important.” 

Louis shrugs but wordlessly angles it so that Harry can read over his shoulder.

His mouth falls open once he registers the words on the page. At the same time, he hears Harry inhale sharply behind him. Louis feels a vague sense of deja vu, bringing him back to the awe and the tinge of anxiety he’d felt receiving his Hogwarts letter.

“Louis,” Harry breathes. He sounds astonished, in an exact mirror of how Louis is feeling. Louis laughs. It sounds a touch hysterical to his own ears.

“It’s a good thing, right?” Louis grips Harry’s hand tightly, suddenly needing the assurance that they’re on the same page. For a moment, he had been so blown away by the opportunity that he hadn’t thought of the possibility that Harry might not see it the same way. 

“Of course it is,” Harry hastens to assure. “I’m so proud of you, Louis.” 

“Thank you,” Louis murmurs. “You were the one who inspired me to actually do something with my love for potions. And the rest is really all thanks to Pansy.” He feels Harry smile against his temple and he relaxes further when Harry threads their fingers together. 

Louis twists in Harry’s arms so that he can hug him back, and he sighs contentedly to find that they still fit together perfectly despite the awkward angle. It’s been an eventful morning for both of them, so it feels good to just take a moment of quiet to digest everything. After a moment, Harry pulls away to shoot Louis a cheeky grin, before leaning back in to whisper in his ear.

“We’re going to live together,” Harry says conspiratorially. Louis’ answering laugh is delighted and more than a little relieved. 

They were going to make it, they would be okay.

 

x

 

_Dear Mr Tomlinson,_

_I am writing to extend my offer to you for an apprenticeship position in Paris, France. Should you choose to accept, you will spend the next three years learning and working in my fully equipped potions laboratory, commencing the 19th of January. At the end of three years, I will be happy to act as your reference in your application to become a fully licensed Potioneer, if you choose to pursue it -- given that you have completed the program to my rigorous standards, of course._

_With Pansy’s recommendation and Professor Slughorn’s assurance that you have scored Outstanding in your N.E.W.T.s for both Potions and Herbology, I am confident that you will do well._

_Please send a return owl with your reply before January 10. I look forward to hearing back from you after the holidays._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco L. A. Malfoy  
Potions Master_

 

 

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun(?) facts: According to Potter Wiki, the Firebolt Supreme was launched in 2014.  I used the boys' real ages/birthyears (except Harry ofc) so there is an 11-year difference between Louis and Harry Potter. Perrie's coffee shop used to be Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop after Madam Puddifoot retired a few years after the war (not canon but shh).


End file.
